Molten Core
by Hibernian Princess
Summary: She wasn't one to break a promise...and she didn't.  But that doesn't mean that things will fall back into place immediately.  Sequel to "May I?," set between S2 & S3; MerlinxOC, don't like, don't read.  T for future violence.
1. Again

**A/N: Wow, I finished the first chapter of this faster than I thought! Anywho, this is the sequel to my **_**Merlin**_** fanfic entitled "May I?," so please read that if you haven't already. I doubt all of my updates will be this fast; I just started actually putting effort into this story when I learned that people actually wanted to read it, so the going will be kinda slow. The title of this piece is a line from the Snow Patrol song "The Golden Floor:"**

_**Dark shape on a golden floor…**_

_**Sleeping planet with a molten core.**_

**I thought it sounded cool, plus it fits the story (as you'll hopefully see later). Enjoy!**

**As usual, I don't own **_**Merlin**_**. Although I really wish I did. *sigh***

* * *

It had been months since she'd been in a city as big as Camelot. Arien was rather worried about the level at which her skills as a bard would be assessed while she was here, but she knew that she would never excel if she didn't challenge herself.

The past year or so had been a whirlwind of events that had made Arien feel more complete as a person. She'd seen quite a bit of the world, had rotting food thrown at her, been praised, and had almost fallen in love again. Remembering the last thing, she shook her head, wishing that those memories could somehow simply fly out of her mind via her ears. Her naïveté had tricked her into thinking that it was love at the time, but memories of a dear friend of hers from Camelot had helped her sort out the ordeal. _And ultimately, that's most of the reason why I'm here_, she told herself honestly.

Arien walked the streets of Camelot, heading towards the house of Aurelia, a friend whom she had stayed with during the months she had spent in Camelot. She knocked on the door and was greeted by the unfamiliar and unshaven face of a middle-aged man. "Whaddaya want?" he slurred.

"Um, a friend of mine lived here about a year ago. Her name was Aurelia—do you happen to know if she's still in Camelot?" Arien inquired, taking a step away from the man.

"Left _months_ ago to live with some guy," the man mumbled.

Arien was almost sure who her friend had left her home for. "Thank you, sir," she said, already walking away.

_Of course! I knew it; I even said it myself a few times! How could I be foolish enough to not think of it first? _Arien chided herself.

The house she was looking for was not very far from Aurelia's. Arien was not as familiar with this location, but she found what she believed to be the correct door and knocked on it with almost unshakeable certainty. Aurelia would most likely be there—it was late enough in the day for her to be done with work. But it was not Aurelia who answered the door—it was a tall, lithe man with blonde hair. "Hello, I'm…ah, here to see Aurelia, if she's in," Arien stated.

"She is," the man replied. "But…may I know your name?"

"Arien the bard, formerly Arien of Greendale," she informed him cheerfully.

The man grinned. "Aurelia will be delighted to see you. Come in, Arien."

Arien followed him through another room and into the kitchen where a woman was diligently stirring the contents of a pot. "I'll take care of that," the man said to her, lightly kissing her head. "Someone's here to see you."

The woman turned around. "Arien!" she cried, embracing her friend. "I was hoping you'd return sooner, but I'm not about to complain now that you're here!"

"It's wonderful to see you, Aurelia," Arien responded—and she truly was overjoyed to see Aurelia. However, her friend's marriage made her wonder what else had changed. Aurelia and her husband, Omar, had taken their relationship very slowly, but Arien was well aware that in the year she had been gone, everyone in Camelot could have changed just as much as she had—or more.

When she saw the slight bulge near Aurelia's midsection, Arien realized just how much she'd missed. "How long?" she asked.

"I'm about six months along," Aurelia replied, practically glowing with joy. "After you missed the wedding, we hoped that you'd come back in time for the birth. Do you think you could stay that long?"

Arien smiled. "If you don't mind, I plan on staying here for a while. There are many things that I missed about Camelot."

"Was Merlin one of them?" Aurelia asked slyly.

"He was at first—very much, in fact," Arien confessed. "But time passed and…my feelings for him changed. After what we went through, I could never stop loving Merlin. I love him differently now, though—as I'd love a brother or a friend."

Aurelia frowned. She'd seen the relationship between Arien and Merlin. They'd both been so in love with one another; it definitely hadn't been something that could be left behind. Aurelia suspected that there was an unlit flame between those two—and plenty of oil and wood for it to begin.

* * *

Camelot was alive with celebration. King Uther had declared that there be a feast in honor of the restoration of the kingdom after the attacks of the Great Dragon, who had mysteriously escaped from his underground prison. There was food, dancing—and a ridiculous amount of work for Merlin. Although Kilgharrah was gone, Merlin couldn't force himself into a celebratory mood. He'd been dragging his feet for the whole celebration, eagerly anticipating the moment when everything would be over and he could go to bed—which looked like it would be relatively soon.

Merlin looked over at Arthur, who was talking to a young woman. Merlin had been positive that she didn't work in Camelot, but he'd caught glimpses of her walking around the hall tonight, taking on the duties of a servant. She reminded him of someone, though he was unable to recall who. "Merlin!" Arthur called, beckoning Merlin towards him.

He hurried over to Arthur, curious about who his master would be talking to. "I don't believe that an introduction is necessary," Arthur said to Merlin.

The woman turned to look at Merlin. "I hope not. It's only been a year," she added.

Merlin had recognized her the moment she'd turned around. "Arien!" he exclaimed, embracing her. She'd left Camelot about a year ago in order to pursue her dream of being a bard and had promised Merlin that she'd return one day. "I thought you forgot," Merlin admitted.

"Merlin, I couldn't forget you!" Arien promised him, looking up at him warmly. "I've just gotten so swept up in everything that there is to see that I didn't think of returning until recently. As soon as you're done for the night, we need to talk—I want to know about everything that's happened since I left."

Merlin glanced over at Arthur. "Go," Arthur told him. "But be ready _early_ tomorrow."

"Thanks, Arthur," Merlin muttered, smiling. To Arien, he said, "And I'd love to know what the life of a bard is like."

"Oh, believe me, you'll hear," she replied, smiling mischievously as they walked away from the crowds. "But I asked first, so you get to tell me first. I don't care how long it is—I want to know even the most insignificant occurrences."

"Well, you've missed some…interesting things," Merlin began before telling Arien everything that had happened in the past year. When he began to tell her of Balinor, he felt his eyes grow wet with tears. "Sorry, didn't think it'd be this hard," he muttered, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

"It's all right," Arien murmured, embracing him. "This must be awful for you—having to come here and celebrate so soon afterwards."

Merlin nodded and blinked away the rest of his tears before finishing his tale. "Seems I picked the worst possible time to leave Camelot," Arien remarked. "Uther fell in love with a troll, Arthur nearly eloped with Lady Vivian, you became a Dragonlord, Aurelia is with child…there's no end to it all!"

"Oh, I'm sure something of interest will happen while you're here. It never stays quiet for long in Camelot," Merlin remarked lightly.

Arien sighed. "If anything _does_ happen, I hope it's not quite as thrilling as what I went through when I was here last. That's…a bit more of a thrill than I want," she confessed, gently touching a spot on her left arm just above the elbow. "D'you still have the scar?" he wondered

"It's faded a bit, but…yes. I've learned to cover it up—when people notice that your initial is scarred into your arm, they want to hear a story and since I'm a bard…well, I'm expected to tell. No matter how personal it is," she explained.

"Is it always like that?" Merlin inquired.

"Usually," Arien began. "But it's unlikely that I'll see any of my listeners again and sometimes I…twist the truth a bit. The way I tell it, it sounds more like I was ambushed in a dark alley than captured by my deranged fiancé for half a week."

Merlin grinned. "The mark of a true bard. Do you have anything else of interest that happened?" he asked.

"Hmm, where to begin?" Arien pondered rhetorically. "The first thing I had to do was learn to play the harp, which isn't very exciting. Then, when I was good enough to play on my own, a number of things happened—I visited my family, learned to dance, almost let my emotions get the best of me, and learned about the importance of defending myself. What do you want to hear about first?"

"Start at the beginning," Merlin suggested.

"All right," she began. "Well, as soon as I was skilled enough to fend for myself, I decided that the first place I wanted to go was home, since I hadn't seen my family in months. That was less than two months after we—parted, and at the time, it wasn't easy for me. After I told my family about everything that happened, it got better—they told me that I had plenty of time to do as I pleased. I stayed with them for a few weeks before _really_ starting my travels.

"I think the third village I stayed in after Greendale was my favorite—the people there were so kind! When I told them I couldn't dance, everyone in the inn took it upon themselves to teach me," she explained, smiling warmly at the memory. "That was what I used to motivate myself when things weren't so easy."

"What happened?" Merlin inquired.

Arien rolled her eyes and smiled a lifeless smile. "It hurts to talk about, but I can't use that as an excuse. You told me about Balinor and Freya—but mine is a different pain than yours," she clarified. "For a while, I thought I was enjoying myself more than I had since Camelot. Of course, I was involved with a master illusionist—Cadell.

"I met him the first night I was in Valdren. After everyone had tired of my singing and storytelling, we talked for at least an hour and I went to bed feeling loved. I remained in Valdren for over a week because of him—fool that I was, I thought he was looking for the same thing I was. But that's not what men seek when they romance a bard. When they do so, it's not true romance—only the…ah, physical pleasures that a woman can offer."

Arien was looking down, trying to collect herself. It had been several months since the Cadell incident, but she still felt like an ignorant child who had been cheated whenever her thoughts turned in his direction. Sensing her sorrow, Merlin wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "It must be horrible, finding out that you've been used like that," he murmured.

Under his sadness, he felt anger boiling. How could a man dare to use Arien—or anyone—so flippantly?

"'Horrible' isn't even the beginning. When I realized what he had in mind, I left immediately." Arien paused momentarily and shook her head before continuing, "Never mind that—I left after the worst argument of my life. It made every time I fought with my brothers look pathetic—even worse than when I told you I was betrothed," she elucidated.

Merlin's eyebrows arched. "We weren't screaming at one another. And you never pushed me into a wall," she told him matter-of-factly. "It was awful, but twas better than keeping it inside and pretending that I would allow myself to be used like that. Since then, I've been stronger. That was the moment when I decided that I needed to know how to protect myself. Cadell didn't force himself upon me outrightly, but his actions opened my eyes. Other men have…a severe lack of self-control and spend their days waiting for young, unprotected women to take advantage of."

"Wow," muttered Merlin.

"Excellent choice of words," Arien replied with a quick grin. "I haven't been able to condense my experiences any more accurately than that."

* * *

He'd been watching her since the beginning of the evening. Her face wasn't a difficult one to pick out, especially when it took the place of Aurelia's. Arien was considerably more beautiful, which had been somewhat of a shock to him—her personality had been described to him in such negative terms that he'd subconsciously assumed that her appearance would be equally obnoxious.

Of course, he wasn't about to protest—his task would be all the simpler since Arien was so attractive. Pretending to love such a woman would come to him as naturally as breathing. However, her willingness to accept his advances would be a completely different thing, he realized as he saw her walk off with a dark-haired young man.

When he saw the man's face, he nearly laughed aloud.

_Merlin? Prince Arthur's klutzy manservant? _That_ is who I was concerned about?_

He was vaguely aware of Arien and Merlin's romantic history; it was entwined with the scheme he was a part of. However, they'd only had a true relationship for about a month—not enough time to form a lasting bond.

He stood and waited, watching Arien leave the room with Merlin. Several minutes later, she re-entered alone. This was his moment. He walked swiftly towards her, brushing her hand with his as he walked by. She stopped and turned in his direction.

"Forgive me. I'm…it's late and I was not watching my step closely enough," he apologized.

"Twas only an accident, Sir; there is nothing to forgive," she replied demurely, curtsying.

She was being too courteous already. "I am Sir Einar, Knight of Camelot. May I have your name?" he inquired, taking care not to sound overly flirtatious.

"Arien, my lord," she told him, curtsying again.

Curse these formalities. "Well, Arien, I hope to see you again soon."

"Very well, my lord," she said, curtsying _again_ before taking her leave.

_Her heart's about as malleable as a thousand-year-old stone_, he realized bitterly. She was not going to accept his advances easily; she was wise enough to understand that many men who spoke frequently with women below their station were seeking mistresses, not love. Einar was seeking neither. His purpose was one of revenge.

* * *

Arien quietly opened the door to Aurelia and Omar's house and tiptoed to the spare chamber she'd be staying in until she left Camelot or found another place to stay. She'd worked for Aurelia at the banquet, but found herself less exhausted than she normally was after a night of barding. Perhaps it was because she didn't have to pour her soul into her work—she only needed to accomplish what was expected.

Everyone in the kitchen had remembered Arien, which had made her feel appreciated until she realized that they all knew her name because of what was now known as "the bread incident." Of _course_ it would be easy to remember a servant who managed to make bread explode—people like that were rare gems, Arien realized sardonically.

And then there was Merlin. She could tell he was different; the things that had happened to him in the past year weighed heavily on him. Before she'd listened to Merlin's story, Arien had felt quite sorry for herself—she'd let one love go and been used by another (who hadn't quite been hers to begin with) within the space of a year, which would seem like a tragedy to any other young woman.

After hearing what had happened to Merlin, Arien's sorrows over Cadell seemed foolish. Merlin had found someone whom he loved and could relate to…and she'd been taken from him. He'd played the role of a classic hero, doing everything within his power to save her. _And Freya's still dead_, Arien realized bitterly.

She felt no jealousy—after all, Merlin had been as free as she had to develop feelings for others. The only negative thing that Arien felt towards Freya was the fact that Arien could never give Merlin what Freya had. She was an ordinary woman; Freya, like Merlin, had had the gift of magic. _Even if things change, he'll miss that_, Arien realized. _Quite honestly, I hope they don't_.

* * *

Emptiness had been consuming Merlin's life of late. It wouldn't have been so awful if it had been in small increments, like it would be for a normal person. _But I've never been normal_, he thought bitterly.

First, Arien had left, which he'd eventually been able to accept—she was off doing something that gave her joy and his feelings for her had dimmed from love into friendship. Then Freya…

She'd made him feel so many things in their short time together; though their relationship had barely begun, he felt as if they'd loved more than many people thrice their age. Of course, that had ended all too quickly.

And lastly, Balinor. Merlin had been used to living without a father—the taunts and awkward stares that had accompanied him throughout his life were just another fact of his existence. He'd known the joy of having a father—only briefly, though, before it was snatched from him by some foul men. He would have rather heard of his father's death before knowing him. Even the few hours they spent in one another's company taunted Merlin—he'd _just_ grasped what most people have for half a lifetime before it was snatched away from him.

Maybe things would change with Arien's reappearance. Perhaps this had just been one cycle of misery that would be reversed now that Arien had brought Merlin back to the beginning of it all. _But I don't feel that way_, he realized. _And it'd only make me more miserable to pretend that I love her when I really don't_.

Still. Arien had a way of bringing life and light to everything around her—and she seemed even more vibrant after living as a bard for a year. Besides, she'd experienced awful things—differently awful that what Merlin had been through, but it gave her more empathy than anyone else Merlin knew. She understood his feelings better than anyone else, which made her easy to talk to—even if it was only as a friend.


	2. Thievery

**A/N: I feel like I should apologize for not publishing last week. But maybe that's because I'm a chronic apologizer. Oh well—either way, I feel bad for not posting last week, but hopefully this chapter will be good enough to make up for it. And a quick note—the poem/song in this chapter is mine. Yes, it's a Shakespearean sonnet and yes, I'm aware that it's not in iambic pentameter. This is because although I'm a lit geek, I really don't like the flow of iambic pentameter; it just sounds wrong to me. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter, despite my poem's lack of iambic pentameter. ;)**

**As usual, I don't own **_**Merlin**_** (although if I did, I guarantee I'd be the happiest girl on earth); it's the property of BBC/NBC/SyFy/Arthurian legend writers.**

* * *

She moved too gracefully for a servant—no one would believe for one moment that such a girl had spent her life within the walls of Camelot. Arien was rich, cultured, and strong—qualities that were not present in sheltered women. Einar was pleased that he'd been selected by Sargon before Uther had learned of Sargon's…_activities_. Everyone who had ever told him that his charm could only get him so far would be proven wrong.

He strode nonchalantly in her direction. "You're looking quite fresh, even after last night," he remarked, trying to keep flirtation out of his tone.

"Well, it's my job," Arien responded briskly, barely looking at Einar.

"I wonder, Arien," he began. When he saw that he held her attention, he continued, "I wonder which is colder—the stone walls of Camelot or your heart."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm sure that anyone with honorable intentions would find both of them most inviting," she informed him levelly, beginning to walk away.

"Wait!" he called after her, grasping her fingertips before they slipped away. "Arien, you seem…enchanting, and there is but one thing I want from you—"

"I know what you want," she snapped, pulling away from him. "A girl you can come crying to on the nights when 'my solitude is too heavy and my bed too empty.' I _refuse_ to be that—for you or any other man."

"That isn't what I meant at all, Arien," he murmured humbly. "I want to _understand_ you—as a person and as a woman. The word in Camelot is that you've been a traveling bard for the past several months. Would you care to tell me of your adventures?" he asked.

_Perhaps he's not a self-seeking pig_, Arien wondered. _There's no harm in speaking with him_.

"Very well," she began. "My first real adventure was in the fifth town I went to…"

* * *

Merlin managed to glimpse Arien over the enormous stack of Arthur's laundry he was carrying. She was talking quite animatedly with a knight. He must've been relatively new; Merlin couldn't recall his name. "Arien!" he called, attempting to wave at her.

She said something to the man she was talking to before hurrying over to Merlin. "Good Lord, if the wind blows the wrong way, you'll fall over! Let me help you with that," she said, taking some of the dirty clothes from his arms. "I see that some things never change," Arien added wryly."

"Nope," Merlin responded with as much goodwill as he could muster. "Who was that you were talking to?" he asked a moment later.

"His name's Sir Einar and apparently he's quite new here in Camelot. At first, I thought he was just looking for a woman to tumble when he wasn't otherwise occupied, but I think he might be worth talking to," Arien told him.

"Oh," remarked Merlin, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"If we weren't carrying the prince's clothing, I think I'd elbow you right now," Arien said playfully.

"Why?" Merlin asked, feigning innocence.

She nudged his ankle with her foot. "You know perfectly well. There's _nothing_ there, Merlin."  
"Not yet, you mean," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Consider yourself lucky that my arms are full."

* * *

"So, _Arien's_ back in Camelot," Arthur said theatrically. "I wonder…just how long will it be before she falls back into your arms?"

"Doesn't seem likely," Merlin replied nonchalantly. "I'm fine without her and she's…looking at other people."

Arthur's brow immediately furrowed at Merlin's cavalier attitude. A year ago, he'd been so deeply in love with Arien that he had spent almost all of his free time with her; when she left to become a bard, Merlin had been completely miserable for the best part of two months. It was impossible that he would so easily accept her loving another man. "And who is this fellow?" Arthur inquired.

"Some new knight. Sir Einar, she told me," Merlin replied, grinning with innocent malice.

No words could describe how shocked Arthur was. "So you're telling me that Arien of Greendale, the love of your life, the beat of your heart, your other half, is flirting with a _knight of Camelot_…and it doesn't bother you?" he wondered.

"Not a bit," Merlin responded lightly.

Arthur shook his head. "If you think you're going to find someone else with…oh, functional eyes and a _brain_ who fancies you…well, think about it, _Mer_lin."

"Who said I needed someone? We're not all insecure little prats like you who need a woman to run to if we get nicked by a sword!" Merlin defended himself.

Arthur's eyes flashed momentarily. "At least I'm capable of being in a position where I'd get 'nicked by a sword,'" he retorted.

"That's because I know better than to go picking fights," Merlin replied.

"_Really?_ Then how would you explain our meeting?" Arthur inquired.

Merlin shook his head, wondering how he could always lose these arguments. "Moment of stupidity?" he suggested.

"And how would you explain the rest of them?" Arthur asked his servant.

"I'm only like this around you," Merlin answered.

"Ah. This makes your romance with Arien a bit more plausible. But I honestly can't believe that this doesn't bother you a bit," Arthur pondered.

"It just…doesn't!" Merlin replied, exasperated.

"I'm sure it will, eventually," Arthur muttered.

Merlin, not hearing what his master had said, went back to work.

* * *

"Thank you _so_ much for doing my job for the last few days," Aurelia said gratefully to Arien, who had just gotten home from a long day of work.

"You're pregnant. Tis a lot of work, carrying around someone so helpless that he or she couldn't live without you. Besides, it gives me a bit of an excuse to remain here for a while. Barding is lovely, but…sometimes it is not the best thing if one wants to _know_ people," Arien replied.

"And who would these people be?" Aurelia inquired slyly. "_Merlin_?"

Arien laughed. "Actually, I was not thinking of anyone in particular. I simply miss being around people with whom I can actually converse."

"What are things like between you and Merlin, by the way?" Aurelia wondered, acting as if Arien hadn't said anything.

"How they should be—normal. We've just sort of…fallen into a natural friendship. This feels like how it's supposed to be," Arien replied, a satisfied smile lighting up her face.

Aurelia shook her head. "Just wait. I predicted it correctly last time; I'm perfectly capable of doing so a second time," she remarked.

"Unless your pregnancy is addling your mind. It happens, you know—I've seen it a few times with my own mother," Arien stated lightly.

"If you're suggesting insanity—" Aurelia began.

"Of _course_ not!" Arien replied playfully. "Why would you ever even _think_ such a thing?"

* * *

A week and a half.

Nothing.

Two people (and everyone who had nothing to do with the situation) were perfectly fine with it; things could continue to progress like this for the rest of their lives and they would be perfectly complacent with everything.

Three were baffled—two for righteous reasons, the other for nefarious purposes. These three would never speak—not until something changed with the first two—for better or worse, whichever one happened to come first.

* * *

Merlin's life had improved ever since Arien had returned to Camelot. Her presence took away some of the loneliness that had been plaguing him since Balinor's death. Arien had never known what it felt like to lose a parent, but she'd seen her own share of tragedies; knowing this made it easier for Merlin to confide in her. They spoke quite frequently—not nearly as often as they had before Arien had left Camelot, but they would walk together in the corridors of Camelot from time to time, speaking of the daily occurrences of their lives.

When they decided to spend an evening in one another's company, more serious subjects were discussed. Yet nothing more than friendship was present.

Until one night, when Merlin returned to Gaius's tower after an especially thought-provoking conversation with Arien about why awful things happened to undeserving people. Her words echoed strongly in his mind.

"_If we all lived easy lives, we'd all be horribly weak. Tribulation is what it takes to strengthen a soul. I'll be honest—the first month after I left Camelot was probably the hardest time of my life. I constantly regretted my decision to become a bard, but I made it. It felt like I was being constantly stabbed at the beginning, but I was able to work past that—and we're both better off because of that. I know that barding has taught me quite a bit about life and…I can see that you've changed as well—you're stronger because of all this, Merlin."_

At that moment, her fingers had brushed his cheek—not tenderly enough to be called a caress, but with enough meaning that it could not have been an accident. He brought his hand halfway to the place where she'd touched him before stopping himself.

He would not put himself through this pattern of loss again. Now that his feelings for Arien were returning, Merlin believed that something would take her away—either death or her love of barding—and he did not want to lose someone else.

Although she'd never shown anything more than platonic interest in anyone else…even Sir Einar. She rarely spoke of him and Merlin assumed that there would never be much of anything between those two.

Arien _had_ changed in the past year, but Merlin knew that the change would have happened eventually. She wasn't different; she was more fully herself. The light that he'd always loved about her now shone even more brightly, making everything else that Merlin saw look dim.

He couldn't help it. Love wasn't "magical," at least not to Merlin—his magic had always been something that he could control.

If he had been able to control love, Arien never would have left to begin with.

Freya would've stayed in the bounty hunter's cage to be put to death, never to know the simple kindnesses of one desperate soul assisting another.

He would not be pondering this if he controlled love.

* * *

Arien's life was a pool of joy. She was in her favorite place in the world with some of the people she cared most about…_and_ she had the freedom to stay or to visit other nearby towns in order to practice her barding skills. Overall, the people of the towns she visited were quite enthusiastic about having a bard in their presence; they listened to her songs and stories avidly and were often curious about her life.

_At least I have happy tales to tell them_, Arien thought every time someone asked her about the current state of her life.

Many people asked her if she had "someone _special_" waiting for her. Her response was standard. "I have several special people who are always happy to see me…though I do not have a fellow who is anything more than a friend."

Inevitably, her mind always turned towards Merlin when she thought of love—he was the only one with whom she'd truly had a relationship. Those feelings were a part of her past; though there was a chance her feelings would change, Arien knew that a happy life without love was completely possible.

Today, Arien was taking over Aurelia's duties. She hummed quietly to herself as she strolled towards the kitchens when someone unexpectedly touched her arm. Turning around, she saw Sir Einar.

"Arien, you haven't been around as much lately," he said suavely.

She wasn't completely sure why, but something about Sir Einar made her highly uncomfortable. "I am just doing the work of my friend. She's been rather preoccupied lately, so I offered to help out a bit. That's why I am absent some days and present others," she clarified.

"How kind of you," he murmured. "What is it you do when your friend is working?"

"Well, I do a bit of barding—nothing exceptional; just traveling around Camelot, and—cheese" she suddenly stopped as Merlin approached. "Hi!" she exclaimed, waving to the prince's manservant as he passed by.

Merlin, who was carrying Arthur's armor, smiled in Arien's direction. "Can we talk later?" he asked.

"Of course. See you then!" Arien called to his back.

This occurrence greatly disturbed Einar. Merlin was obviously too important to Arien. This needed to change _immediately_. "Would you care to dine with me tonight?" he suggested, hoping that she would break her plans with the manservant for him.

"No, I'm afraid I'm busy. And…don't bother asking me again. I simply have too much to do—there is no time to spare for dining with strange knights." Her distaste for him snuck into her tone. This would never work—unless Einar modified his plan.

* * *

Arthur had seen it—the change in Merlin that he'd been anticipating for approximately two weeks. His servant was losing focus, staring off into nothingness, and had been in the stocks more than normal. Contrary to what one would expect, the prince was pleased with these developments because they meant that he had been correct.

Merlin was in love with Arien.

"So, _Mer_lin…when do you plan on telling her?" he asked his manservant one sunny afternoon.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin responded neutrally.

"_Really?_ _Mer_lin, you're constantly losing focus, your work has redefined 'mediocrity,' and you've been in the stocks more times than I'd care to recall in the past few days. You've only been like this once before—the last time you were _swooning_ over Arien," argued Arthur.

"There must be some point to all of this," Merlin commented, though he was relatively sure of where Arthur was going to take this conversation.

"Oh, there is. _You_ were so sure that you didn't need love because you are _so incredibly strong_—and just look how quickly it changed. You're ready for her to swoon into your arms, gaze up into your arms, and tell you of how she thought of you every time she was lonely, _aren't you_?" Arthur inquired.

"It's not _exactly_ like that," Merlin responded. "I just…want her to know right away this time."

"Then _go and speak with her_. It's really not that difficult, Merlin," Arthur explained. "Especially since you've done it before."

"I'm perfectly aware of how to tell her," Merlin said rather harshly. "And I'm going to do it tomorrow night."

"_Oh_, I see. Are you feeling _threatened_, _Mer_lin?" Arthur wondered.

Merlin didn't answer.

"All the more reason to hurry up…" Arthur trailed off, his tone mysterious.

* * *

"_The maple tree grows strong and tall;_

_In the forest it hast e'er stood_

_Eternal green; its leaves ne'er fall_

_Upon the floor of this fair wood."_

The sound of Arien's song greeted Einar as he walked into the tavern. He had followed her when she had left Camelot, knowing that this would be the safest place to do what needed to be done. If anyone were to catch him in Camelot…it would be the end, not only of his vengeance, but of his knighthood and his life.

Her passion for barding was evident in the concentration that barely furrowed her brow as she focused on singing the correct words and playing the correct notes on her harp. Her sweet voice liltingly sang the next verse, flowing forth to create a metaphysical song. Einar listened intently. If he was going to execute revenge so quickly, why not enjoy it a bit? He could already hear that voice, melting into sighs over him.

And it would all be his.


	3. First Definition: Enchanted

**A/N: Well, this is the next chapter. I just got a new computer with a different operating system, so I hope it uploads ok. :/ And, as usual, I hope you all enjoy it and am eager to hear your feedback!**

**And just a warning: I'm probably won't be posting for another couple weeks or something because right now, I'm not feeling too inspired. :P I think that having a really good chapter is more important than having one that shows up really quickly.  
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***sigh* I don't own **_**Merlin**_**; it's the property of BBC/NBC/SyFy/Arthurian legend writers.**

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* * *

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Arien walked down the corridor of the inn. She did not want to go back to Camelot; she needed time and space to think. Lately, her mind had been wandering in Merlin's direction a bit more than she liked and she needed to figure out whether or not these feelings were fleeting.

"You know, you really do sing beautifully."

She immediately tensed at the sound of Sir Einar's voice. She _never_ should have spoken to him. She should have been wise enough to trust her instincts and stay away from him. "I appreciate your compliment, Sir Einar," she said neutrally, stopping and turning around to face him.

He moved to touch her arm. Arien jerked away and took a large step away from him. "I mean no harm," he cooed.

She began to walk towards her room again, more quickly than before. "Wait!" he called.

Out of sheer courtesy, she halted. Einar grasped her shoulder and began reciting an old spell. He hadn't counted on Arien recognizing the language of magic immediately. "Do you _think_ I am a complete fool?" she hissed, pulling away from him. "Don't touch me _again_."

Einar whispered a single word and Arien froze. He stepped in front of her, looked into her wide eyes, and said, "Well, I never counted on this—but then again, there are a few things that I did not plan for—such as your relationship with the serving boy."

Had Arien been able to do so, she would have protested that there was only friendship between she and Merlin, though that statement was slowly losing its truth. Since she was unable to speak, Einar continued, "Not that anything I'm telling you will matter. You simply…will not remember in a moment."

Arien struggled with every ounce of strength she possessed, but nothing happened. Einar felt what she was doing and snickered. "How sweet. You actually believe that you have power against me," he remarked before beginning a new spell—one that was much more complicated than the first.

* * *

Of course, he hadn't done it. But at least Merlin had a legitimate reason for not telling Arien how he felt—he hadn't seen her in nearly two days. He was beginning to wonder if she'd simply run off and decided to become a bard again. _Without telling me?_ he wondered.

"Merlin, I haven't spoken to you in _centuries_!"

Arien's voice was filled with joy. Merlin blinked twice and decided that she truly was walking down the corridor in his direction. "Where on earth have you been?" he asked her.

Her brow furrowed. "I've been _here_, Merlin—I wouldn't leave without saying anything," she replied, acting as though he'd asked an obvious question.

"But…I've barely seen you," he pondered.

"Tis not as if I've been distant," she said, striving to keep her tone neutral. If Merlin was going to be _this _possessive…perhaps it was time to leave Camelot. "I don't work as I did before, if you recall."

"No, no, it's not that," mused Merlin. "Arien, I haven't seen you _at all_."

Her brow furrowed. The past few days had seemed relatively normal to her. "Well then…we'll talk tonight after dinner. I promise," she replied. Perhaps it _was_ partially her fault; things had been so busy lately that she could have forgotten to see or speak with Merlin.

"See you then," he replied, walking away and wondering if there was more to the situation.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Arien," Einar called.

As she turned around to look at him, his eyes flashed golden as the spell took hold of her. "Hello," she murmured sweetly, walking towards him, her hips swaying slightly more than normal. "It's so nice to see you again."

"And it is always lovely to see you," he whispered into her ear, slowly brushing her hair back. "Because you are the most beauteous wonder in all of Camelot." Einar's suave tone kept the words from sounding too synthesized; if he overplayed the role of an enamored knight, Arien would grow suspicious, even under the love spell.

"Mmm, thank you," she muttered, stepping closer to the knight while gazing up at him with her eyes wide and full of guile.

Einar saw the form of the manservant approaching them. _This is the test_, he realized.

Inevitably, when Merlin saw Arien, he waved cheerfully at her. She continued to stare at Einar, completely enamored. "Ah…Arien?" Merlin called, slowing his pace and approaching her.

"It appears she's rather lost in thought," Einar told Merlin coldly.

"Oh, she's lost," Merlin responded, with a sharp edge to his tone.

"Watch your words, servant," Einar hissed, his face a hand's breadth from Merlin's. "Quite honestly, I believe you're a bit too…_cavalier_ with them."

"That's not all I'll watch," Merlin muttered as he turned away.

Before he left, he decided to try saying something to Arien, who had simply stood and watched the whole ordeal as if it was a normal part of her life. "So…I'll see you later, Arien," he said.

She simply blinked and began speaking to Einar.

There was certainly something strange happening with Arien. Merlin had been wondering if she'd been trying to make him jealous by spending so much time with Sir Einar and virtually ignoring him, but Arien wouldn't snub him—or anyone—so blatantly. Whatever was happening with her ran a bit deeper than romance. Merlin had one suspicion—magic. But why would a knight feel the need to enchant Arien into loving him? There were plenty of women in Camelot who would be glad to be admired by a knight. And even if his desire burned only for Arien, he was a knight and she was only a bard. If he wanted to take her (the mere thought made Merlin feel ill and infuriated), it would be simple—strong as Arien was, she hadn't a chance against a knight. Even if she tried to bring the event to light, Uther would not easily believe that one of his knights had defiled a woman—especially if it was her word against his.

Merlin could think of only one person who would have had any use for enchanting Arien: Brant. However, he was dead, as was his fellow persecutor of women, Lord Sargon.

_Perhaps Gaius has an idea_, Merlin decided.

* * *

"Arien's in danger."

Gaius nearly dropped the potion he was making, shocked at Merlin's sudden appearance in his chambers. "A bit of _warning_ would be appreciated," he commented dryly.

"Well, I didn't think anything was wrong until now," Merlin said agitatedly.

Shaking his head, Gaius replied, "I meant about coming in here, Merlin. I nearly dropped this because of you." He gestured to the mixture he'd been holding only moments before, now resting safely on the table. "And why are you so convinced that Arien is in danger? I saw her just the other day and she wasn't overshadowed by some eminent doom."

"Gaius, who took over Lord Sargon's estate after his execution?" Merlin wondered.

"Merlin, I don't see what _any_ of this has to do with a threat on Arien's life," Gaius remarked. "But if you must know, it was given to a rather distant cousin of Sargon's. I can't remember his name for the life of me, but I know that his son, Einar, is a knight of Camelot."

"Of _course_. It all makes sense now. Just before I came here, I saw Arien with Einar," Merlin began.

Gaius shook his head. "Merlin, no matter what your feelings for her are, if you're not together, Arien is free to be with whomever she chooses," he told the young warlock.

"No, it's not that. She completely _ignored_ me, Gaius. I know her well enough to know that she'd never be that rude if someone spoke to her directly," Merlin stated fervently. "I think she's enchanted."

To Merlin's complete shock, Gaius released a small chuckle. When he noticed the horrified look on Merlin's face, he explained, "One of the meanings of Arien's name is 'enchanted.' I found it rather…ironic."

"And my name means 'sea fort' or a small falcon, so I suppose I'm fated to…meet a bird in a house by the ocean or something!" Merlin exclaimed, moderately exasperated.

"Did you see anything that would make you think she's enchanted?" Gaius inquired.

"I started talking with Einar and she just…stood there the whole time, staring straight ahead. And when I spoke to her, she didn't move. It was as if I wasn't there," Merlin

"Are you _sure_ you're not overreacting to all of this?" Gaius inquired. "She could be falling in love with someone else."

"It's not that, Gaius, I swear," Merlin said vehemently.

"Well, there's not much you can do about this until you have some sort of proof that Sir Einar is using a spell on Arien," Gaius remarked. "Although I wonder…why would he be so desperate for a simple bard?"

"Exactly _how_ were Sargon and Sir Einar related?" Merlin inquired.

"It's not completely clear," Gaius began. "Sir Einar and his father were said to come from a far away land to take over Sargon's estate."

"D'you think it's possible that Einar and Sargon really _aren't_ related?" pondered Merlin. "Since Brant was executed first, Sargon must've seen what was coming. Maybe he appointed an heir to take vengeance on the woman who was responsible for his death."

Gaius's brow furrowed. "It's possible," he remarked, "but again, you have no proof. If you could somehow…get proof that he enchanted her, you would have a legitimate case against Sir Einar. Until then, Merlin, it's your word against a knight's."

"I know," he replied dejectedly. "But I'm going to save her."

* * *

"Merlin, I've had a complaint about you from one of the knights," began Arthur. "He said that you were unnecessarily rude to him."

Merlin looked at his master, but didn't deny what he'd said. "I know that you often get away with being rather…_cheeky_ around me, but that doesn't mean that you can treat everyone else of higher rank in such a manner," Arthur explained.

"I'm aware," Merlin responded lightly. "But he should think twice before touching Arien."

"Ah, so _that's_ what all this is about," Arthur realized. "_Arien_, who you still haven't spoken to." The prince sighed heavily. "This means only one thing, Merlin—we're going to speak with her right now."

"_We're_ going?" Merlin inquired.

"Well, since you obviously haven't the courage to speak with her, I'm going to do it for you," Arthur declared.

Merlin did his best to hide his excitement. Hopefully, Arthur would see the effects of Einar's love spell. If he did, then his job would be finished. "If you insist," he grumbled quite convincingly.

The two young men left Arthur's chambers and set off through the corridors of Camelot, seeking Arien. It did not take them long to find her; she was striding purposefully in their direction, obviously intent on completing some task. "Arien!" Arthur called.

She immediately slowed her pace and walked towards Arthur and Merlin at the sound of her name. "I've seen you _twice_ today now, Merlin—so you aren't allowed to complain about never seeing me," Arien remarked, smiling.

"Thrice, actually," Merlin corrected her. She was acting so _normal_ now, as if there was no spell. _Perhaps Gaius was right. I'm just overreacting_, Merlin pondered.

"No…we talked this morning and we're talking now," Arien replied, her brow furrowed. "Twice."

"Anyways," Arthur said, trying to draw the attention back towards his purpose, "We're here because there's something you need to know."

Merlin had been prepared for a fight. He'd been ready to explain a confusing situation to Arthur—but he hadn't prepared himself for the actual purpose of his and Arthur's endeavor. "Uh, yeah…they desperately need you in the kitchens. Right now. Hurry—they won't stop complaining!" Merlin said hurriedly, ushering Arien towards the kitchens.

"Um…very well then…goodbye, my liege. And I'll see you later, Merlin," she called, confusion in her tone as she walked away.

Arthur stared at Merlin in shock. "What was _that_ all about?" he inquired.

"I got nervous," was Merlin's simple (and quite honest) response.

"Well, overcome your nerves, _Mer_lin," Arthur suggested.

"Right. In a minute," he replied, walking away from his master. He wanted to see Arien and Einar interact again to see if he was perceptive or just jealous.

* * *

It needed to happen tonight.

Merlin might be a mere servant, but he _was_ close to Prince Arthur. If he somehow was able to pick up enough evidence, Einar wouldn't be able to carry out the plot. At first, that wouldn't have bothered him very much—but now, he _needed_ this. Sargon's last words to him echoed in his mind: _"Be sure you do what was asked of you, or your family will go back to the streets. I may be dead, but the dead are survived by their ideas. Do not think that you will go unpunished if you do not complete the task."_

It had grown from a duty to a desire of Einar's. Until a few weeks ago, Arien had been a name, a reminder of the vengeance he was supposed to take. Now, she was a beautiful woman whom he would ravish and kill. His bargain to Sargon would be fulfilled and he would be free to live a posh and comfortable life as a knight of Camelot and heir to his father's now-grand estate.

He watched the fluidity of Arien's movements as she walked down the hall towards him. With her presence came the feeling of magic—his spell was taking hold of her. "I think," he began, "that it is time for us to be _alone_." He pulled her towards him. "_Completely_ alone."

She smiled and made some noise of agreement.

Einar led them both towards one of Camelot's many deserted bedchambers—not his own; that would arouse too much suspicion. Once they were in the room with the door closed behind them, he said a word, releasing Arien from the spell.

* * *

Arien hadn't come tonight.

Of course, after seeing how she'd acted around Einar earlier today, Merlin wasn't horribly shocked. She was obviously falling in love with the knight, either by a spell or her own choice. Still, it was very unlike her to break plans without notice.

_There's still time_, he reassured himself. And there was; it was only a bit later than when they normally met. Sometimes, when Arien was cleaning instead of taking her usual position in the kitchen, she was forced to work a bit later than normal. And there was always the possibility that Aurelia had gone into labor early and Arien had had to help her.

Yet Merlin was deeply troubled by her absence. He sensed that something was wrong, so he did what made the most sense.

He sought her.

* * *

Arien shook her head trying to clear it. She was in a dimly lit room with…Einar? How in the world had she arrived here? Wasn't she supposed to be with Merlin?

A thought probed at the back of her mind—something that had happened a few days ago but was still very important. It had happened while she was at the inn, after seeing someone. Merlin? Einar? A member of her family? _Have I been drugged again?_ she wondered. The loss of memory she was experiencing now felt very similar to what had happened after she'd drunk Brant's drugged water.

"Well, I suppose I should begin," Einar remarked suavely.

"Begin explaining? If so, I would _really_ enjoy knowing how I arrived here," Arien snapped.

"Hmm, it seems as if the flower makes her own briars," Einar pondered.

"No one else can make them correctly," she retorted, subtly moving towards the door.

"Ah. And _this_ is the problem," he murmured, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards him. "You underestimate me."

Arien's heart sped up, preparing her body to flee—but she couldn't; Einar had already seen through that. He continued, "And _that_, Arien, has been your tragic flaw."

She paused for a moment, thinking.

Too long.

Einar easily threw her onto the bed, murmuring a word as he looked down at her, lust radiating from his being. "STOP!" Arien screamed, but the spell twisted her vocal cords, making the word come out as if it were part of an ordinary conversation.

Einar snickered. "Do you actually think I'd listen to your pathetic pleas now, after all that I've done?" he asked.

"I was hoping you had a conscience. Apparently, that is one more thing you lack," she snapped.

"What I lack will no longer matter to you by the end of the night," purred Einar. "Because you will be in no state to appreciate it."

Arien urged every muscle in her body to arise and run out of the room in any way that she could, but the spell only allowed her to writhe around uselessly. Einar put one knee on the bed and swung his other leg over Arien. Out of instinct, she tried to scream and move, but the magic held her to the bed completely and forced her into a state of silence. She couldn't stand feeling so helpless. Praying that she would somehow be able to forget this moment, Arien squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about what was going to happen.

She heard a door open. A male voice yelled a word and she could sense that Einar had moved. Cautiously, Arien opened her eyes. She was lying alone on the bed. Einar was crumpled nearby on the floor, still conscious, but injured. In the doorway stood Merlin, his face hot with anger. Arien tried to move and found that she could-either Einar had decided to lift the curse or he couldn't hold it any longer.

"Merlin!" Arien cried in relief.

"One second," he called to her.

His eyes flashed golden as he sent a large trunk crashing down on Einar's head.

Neither one of them heard what he whispered before the trunk hit his head.


End file.
